


In the darkest part of night, you shall be mine

by Waldfee



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Boys In Love, German National Team, Historical References, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldfee/pseuds/Waldfee
Summary: Benedikt falls for Mats, over and over again, in good and bad times, in peace and war. Mats would give his soul to Benedikt, would risk his life and honour as well, just to hold his beloved one close. Just once and for eternity...





	1. Falling from grace

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again and welcome to my new Hömmels one shot series! I hope you will enjoy reading it, and please remember that too much of this is still too real in many parts of the world! 
> 
> Spelling and grammar mistakes are to blame on my not being a native speaker.

Mats trembled slightly, still trying to stay awake despite being wounded and oh so very, very tired, at the same time leaning heavily on his friend Marco who had brought him here. But he didn’t know where he was, it was close to midnight already and by now, he had trouble orientating. They were in front of an old and massive stone building, waiting at the wooden gate for someone to open up and help them.

Marco’s knocking had indeed been heard, as one single man finally opened the door. Mats tried to listen to the words that followed, but to no avail. When several other darkly clothed men appeared and helped him inside and onto one of the hard bunks in a sparsely lit room, he had already lost consciousness. 

 

+++ 

Benedikt had heard the voices from the outside of his tiny room, but ignored them in order to concentrate on his prayers once more. He would get to know what had happened upon the next day soon enough, yet he was sure it was another warrior who had come to the monastery to heal his broken bones. So many hopeless souls arrived here, many of them on their pilgrimage to Italy, but also fleeing peasants, warriors from the Holy Land and some poachers, too.  
He was indeed lucky he was not one of them, but he would often enough care for their wellbeing at least. Benedikt liked serving the wounded men that came here, although it was sometimes a hardship to witness all the dying, the badly healed wounds from war and torture and the many infections. He had heard so many of their sad stories, their secret sins and desperate pleas for salvation, so he put his own worries aside and cleaned them, fed them and prayed with them to the Almighty. 

Then the men left again, one by one, either by walking outside of this building on their own feet, or by dying here a mostly painful death. And even if it occasionally tore his heart apart from the inside, he endured this patiently. He was not to give his heart to strangers, but to God alone.

Benedikt sighed inwardly and began to pray for the newly arrived guests, whoever they were. 

 

+++

Benedikt rose early when the sun was not yet fully up to begin the morning prayers, then went to the chorals with his fellows. Only afterwards they were allowed a sparse meal which consisted of oatmeal gruel and water mainly.  
In silence he cared for his other duties, namely cleaning the empty stone floors, planting and cutting some herbs in the local garden and praying and singing some more. These simple things tended to give him more peace of mind than indulging in earthly pleasures, such as drinking wine and feasting on exquisite food, could have done.

Only much later Abbot Manuel spoke to him: “Benedikt, I would be glad if you would assist Philipp with the wounded man today. His friend couldn’t stay and has left already. He is not in an overly good condition.”

Benedikt bowed his head as a sign of acceptance, thereby revealing his tonsure to the taller man. “Sure I will, Abbot Manuel. How is his name?”

“He is called Mats Hummels, a strong man who fought for Duke Schweinsteiger. I hope we will not lose him as he is needed in the army.”

“I will do my best”, Benedikt declared dutifully, mentally preparing himself to meet another badly wounded man. Surely he shouldn’t have let it bother him this much; they lived in dangerous times, after all. 

But when he finally entered the spital alongside Philipp, who was adept in medicinal duties, he was bothered again by the sight. There on the single bunk lay an unmoving young man, close to his own age judging by the looks of him, his face soft in his sleep, yet with such charismatic, energetic angles to it, that Benedikt could have only described him as beautiful. 

He stared at the man for a few seconds, until he was remembered by his fellow monk Philipp that they indeed had some important duties to attend to. Benedikt hurried to the other side of the bunk and gathered his belongings, to gently wipe the sweat from the man’s forehead, while Philipp carefully examined the deep cut on the warrior’s left side and treated it with skilful hands. “It will take a while, but he will most likely recover when we succeed in keeping the risk of infection at bay. But first we have to get him to drink”, Philipp spoke quietly.

Benedikt nodded absentminded, too distracted by the fascinating features in front of him. It didn’t help at all that Mats’ torso was partially exposed to give them better excess to the wound. He wore a dark leather jacket along with matching trousers and riding boots, while his weapons, consisting of a knife and a short sword, were set beside him on the ground.

Suddenly, the man moved, fighting the coughs that tortured him, at the same time opening his dark eyes at last. Benedikt steadied him instantly by putting a helping hand to the broad shoulders, until the man came to rest again.

Tired brown eyes searched for his own to seek eye contact. “Where am I? What has happened to me?”

Benedikt didn’t know what to say or do, as he felt himself slowly falling apart. Fighting the temptation of gazing some more into these beautiful and intense eyes, he lowered his gaze and filled the cup with water, then brought it to the man’s lips, at the same time suppressing the too strong shaking of his hands.  
This simply shouldn’t happen, him being so shaken by one soldier alone, and again he feared he was too weak, too sinful to be forgiven. His fellows knew nothing of his strange thoughts and the obscene pictures which endlessly haunted him in his dreams, of strong bodies entangled and searching lips that roamed his body. And they should never know, as he would face certain banishment or execution otherwise. So he needed to pray more and longer, to extinguish these grave sins from his mind.  
When would the dreams stop, when would he finally reach the end of this ongoing nightmare? What more could he do besides praying, working hard and punishing himself for the evil inside of him? He was so tired of it all...

 

Philipp finally answered Mats’ question for him: “You are here in the Monastery close to Gelsenkirchen, you will be healed and cared for until you are strong enough to leave. The Lord above watches for his obedient servants; so don’t fear.”

“I’m without fear, but thank you”, spoke the quiet, but yet strong and manly voice of Mats Hummels.

Philipp hummed in agreement. “That is for the better. Brother Benedikt here will stay with you for the time being, as I have to look for one of the peasants who broke his hand on the fields. Take care.” 

So he left the once more desperate Benedikt alone with Mats, who was at loss for words for fear of giving himself away. Mats Hummels yet was not: “You are called Benedikt?”

“Yes”, the monk answered readily.

“Please talk to me, as I’m in severe pain. And may you help me up, if it is not too much of an inconvenience? I feel dizzy at the moment and would welcome the chance to lean onto the wall at least.”

“Of course”, Benedikt declared resignedly, preparing himself for the too close contact and helped the poor man up, until he sat on the bunk instead of laying still. He gave him some more food and water and answered his ongoing questions as best as he could, all the while kneading his hands, not daring to look at the warrior too intently. He felt his curious gaze on him, begging for information and clearly confused as to why he was so reserved and distant.

But Benedikt couldn’t tell him anything, although he soon sensed that the warrior was by no means an evil man, was no demon despite his extreme physical beauty. Nonetheless he left the spital as soon as possible, as the fault lay exclusively within himself. This night, he found no sleep at all.

 

+++

He was called to care for Mats every day from now on. It was a duty he feared, yet longed for at the same time. The worst thing was him having to wash Mats’ wound repeatedly and also helping him to clean his other body parts too, as the warrior was still weak and had trouble moving much on his own. On these occasions Benedikt found himself watching the slightly tanned skin which made his heart ache with forbidden longing, the hard muscles underneath that looked so promising. Later at night he fought the temptation to touch himself, never giving in as this was considered a severe sin, but never experiencing some kind of relief, either.

And indeed, it was not the first time this happened to him, as he had felt the pull of other clueless men before, but never had it been as bad as now.

Slowly, Mats’ condition improved. He never intruded into Benedikt’s personal space, never pried into his personal business, but was nevertheless curious about him and seemed deeply disturbed by his distant demeanour.  
On one occasion he complimented Benedikt on the care he took with everything, told him that he had a friendly face and caring eyes, but he had never seen him smile. The monk felt his cheeks heating up upon hearing this and nodded only curtly.

Several days later, after he had helped Mats with his bandage, the question which he dreaded finally came: “Why do you fear me so? Why can’t you even look me in the eye? I haven’t done you any harm, have I?”

Benedikt didn’t know how to answer, so he stayed silent and unmoving. 

“Oh, are all monks this hard to talk to? But I guess the others are different, Philipp is much easier. What’s the matter with you?”

Benedikt kneaded his hands and then gathered his belongings, preparing himself to escape and seek refuge in his cell. He shouldn’t, couldn’t ever come back to this man, even if he had to disobey Abbott Manuel’s orders in the end. A long time ago he had made vows to forget about earthly desires and forbidden sins and he had to stay true to that, no matter the cost. He stood and wanted to leave, but suddenly Mats was up and on his feet, effectively preventing him from leaving the cold room by standing in front of its entrance. 

Closer and closer he came, while Benedikt awkwardly tumbled backwards, until he stood with the back to the hard stone wall, the slightly taller warrior beautifully hovering above him. Oh, where were the heavenly angels to help him when he needed them badly? Was he too sinful already to be saved? Benedikt didn’t dare moving, but soon he felt a warm hand delicately tugging under his chin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, only to hear the single softly spoken word: “Coward!” 

The surprise upon hearing this brought him to finally open his eyes, and the burning flame that was Mats Hummels’ eyes consumed him. It was a piercing gaze at the beginning, but after a few seconds it melted down to a somewhat softer expression. “I think I know your secret. You monks are often not as holy as you claim to be. But don’t fear, you’re safe with me.”

With that, Mats laid his lips onto the monk’s to kiss him with eager passion, with soft strokes of his tongue, with cleverly swirling said member into Benedikt’s mouth at last to rob him of his every breath. And Benedikt, who had never kissed anybody since kissing his mother last goodbye when he was five years old, fell apart under the intimate touch, clung to the warrior’s strong body and let himself be kissed and devoured. Only then it dawned on him that he must have long ago fallen in love with Mats Hummels, who was so strong and proud, yet gentle at the same time.

Soon they lay down on Mats’ bunk, undressing each other to get closer still. And Benedikt’s most feared nightmare came true, as Mats’ hands roamed all of his body, found his erect penis and started to massage it without reservation. In return, Benedikt worshipped and admired the warrior’s body as well; let his fingers lustfully explore what his mind had dreamed of for so many years.  
Yet hell didn’t open up upon the very instant to end his life and no demons came to take him with them. Instead, he forgot everything else in the warm and loving arms that held him, he felt closer to heaven than ever before, felt cherished and found.

After having achieved relief at last, Mats still held him for long minutes before speaking up: “Benedikt, you don’t belong here. Please, come with me!” Tender fingers caressed Benedikt’s temple, soft lips lingering on his lips and cheeks, giving him a hard time resisting Mats.

And the monk fell again, fell from God’s grace by not instantly declining Mats’ offer. “I… I will think about it.”

The next evening, he went back to Mats whose condition had improved much since first coming here. He only took his few clothes and a little beer and food from the monastery’s kitchen with him.

 

When the golden sunrays kissed the earth upon the following morning, Mats Hummels was gone, as he apparently had recovered from his illness. Brother Julian, who had been on duty to watch the entrance, had obviously slept during the warrior’s departure after having drunk too much of wine, he was to be punished.  
Benedikt was also never to be seen again. Abbot Manuel contemplated what to do, but came to no useful solution. They had no armed guards that could be spared, therefore couldn’t afford to go into the wide forests to search their fellow monk. It could last many days to roam the region after all, and the nearby living peasants told of no fights or corpses they had seen. Obviously his departure had something to do with the warrior, but Manuel knew Duke Schweinsteiger’s soldiers to be men of honour.  
So Manuel assumed that brother Benedikt, the so long pained soul, was well and went with God, and wished him a good journey too, wherever it should lead to.


	2. Mortal sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is the second (and next to last?) chapter of my “We’re in medieval times and Benni is a monk”-story, answering your requests for a sequel.

Benedikt stood still while trying to understand the softly spoken conversation some metres left to him, here under the massive branches of oaks and elm trees, in midst the wilderness at the edge of deep forests where the band of soldiers hid.

“…you are bringing me a monk? What has gotten into that crazy mind of yours, and what are we to do with him?” The older and more responsible of the two men, Duke Schweinsteiger, stood with crossed arms in front of Mats Hummels, who, despite being talked to in a rather upset tone by his superior, seemed completely at ease with the situation.

“He is not a monk anymore, he was very insistent on leaving his former housing. He is strong, capable and he has a sharp mind, he will adept to any situation. Plus, he treated my wounds for several days with great patience; I’m sure he can do so for the rest of us, too.”

“Hmm, we can try. At least he can pray for us, and we surely need that from time to time. But why did he decide to go with you? If I were to flee from monkhood, you were the last person I would go with.”

Benedikt heard Mats laugh dryly, and he himself also had to suppress the smile which threatened to come over his otherwise serious features. Then, his companion answered mockingly: “I say thanks for your trust in my abilities. I have my ways. I will care for him though; you must not concern yourself with him.”

“I consent for the time being, but you are wholly responsible for him. Give him some new clothes; his old ones are rotten enough. I want to see him exercise tomorrow and test if he can handle any weapons. Now you may leave and do everything you deem necessary. Also, I trust you to tell me when problems arise.”

“I will do so. Thank you, Sire”, Benedikt saw Mats bow his head slightly, then the latter walked close up to him, silently greeting him with a small smile. “That went surprisingly well. Come, I will show you around, and then we can eat and rest. I know you are tired.”

With a light touch on his elbow, Mats lead the former monk to the other men, where he was greeted reluctantly, but gazed at very curiously. Easier it happened to be with Mats’ blond friend Marco, who was openly laughing at Mats, both in joy and relief upon seeing him alive. He hugged Mats tightly to him and also shook hands with Benedikt, who smiled and followed Mats silently. He felt light headed, almost euphoric now. This was a new life for him to begin, which he actually couldn’t believe most of the time.

The last couple of days had been unbelievingly hard on him, both on mind and body. They had searched Mats’ band for days, walking on and on for far more than ten miles per day, and Benedikt’s feet clearly were not used to that. He also had not been overly sure if he had done the right thing by leaving the monastery behind. He could never come back, yet he already missed Philipp, Abbot Manuel and the other monks. He missed the intensive singing and praying, missed caring for their lush garden and the golden crucifix on the altar, where he had often stayed for ours on his knees, gazing at the saviour and hoping to find rescue for himself finally. He even felt the absence of his tiny cell, where he never had found any peace, but now, at night, he longed for it‘s cold stone walls.

But he was with Mats now, who meant more to him with every passing day. Mats had seemed to sense his needs, his lack of security, and had held him during the cold nights, huddled together in a single blanket, sleeping in the forest or some barn, if they had found any. Mats had looked at him with concern, but also with tenderness, so Benedikt had gladly put his head close to the other man’s shoulder to relax and fall asleep without being disturbed by nightmares.  
They even had been intimate once after having fled the monastery. It had been a fleeting contact, quick and without any real enjoyment for fear of being discovered, but the kiss they shared afterwards spoke of deep feelings, of trust despite all obstacles, and a promise of more to come. 

They had not done too much talking, as they were in a hurry to reach Mats’ comrades and there was also not much to tell, from Benedikt’s side at least. He had lived in the monastery since his early childhood and couldn’t remember much more before arriving there. But he had gathered knowledge from Mats that he indeed was married to a woman called “Cathy”, had a three year old son and lived in a small house on Duke Schweinsteiger’s castle with his family, close to the big city of Dortmund. For a short moment Benedikt had felt a pang of jealousy, but he had shrugged it off after that. Mats clearly loved his son more than his wife, and Benedikt could never have him fully, so it was for the better that Mats called a wife his own who would care for him.

 

They were together in this now, so Benedikt did not fear. And of course he would pray for Mats and the other soldiers, so that no harm should befall them. He didn’t know if God would still listen to his prayers, but he had not been too sure of that for many years, after all.

Soon, Mats led him out of the group of soldiers to look for blankets and some spare clothes, at the same time quietly murmuring to Benedikt: “They must never know why you came with me. Marco does not know of my little secrets, but he knows me, and he may not miss nor misunderstand any signals we may send him unintended. Sorry for this, I really wish otherwise, but we must keep a certain distance from now on, for an unknown time. Also, if we have to fight, you should stick with me, and I will guard you. But at least, you shall not be cold.”

Mats had found a thick, not too dirty blanket in a pile of things, held it up and closed it affectionately around Benedikt’s shoulders. The latter felt warmed up instantly, not by the blanket alone, but also by the tender care Mats was showing him. ”Thank you, Mats. And as long as you’re with me, I can endure all hardships.”

Mats put a hand on his shoulder to lightly pat it, smiling warmly. “I knew you could put up with everything the world bestows you with. You may not yet know it, but you are brave and strong. I admire that.”

Benedikt lowered his head in acknowledgement, not sure if he could accept the unforeseen compliment. Yes, he was shy, and not used to some of the behaviour he didn’t already know from the monastery.

“And you’re modest, too.” Mats checked if someone was approaching them, but nobody was looking, so he shortly pecked Benedikt on the lips. “Now let’s go back to get some soup into our stomachs. Marcel is an excellent cook, you will not be disappointed.”  
Benedikt nodded, following Mats again, ready to follow his lover wherever he should lead him.

Upon the next morning Mats was showing him the swords, taught him some simple moves and pulled him into a playful fight at the end, also smirking at him from time to time with sparkling eyes. Duke Schweinsteiger seemed content enough with the result, so Mats and Benedikt were, too.

\+ + +

 

Some hard, long months followed, filled with battles, waiting and hiding in the forests, some more fighting, constantly searching for sources of food, shelter and clear water. Sometimes they met other parts of the army and formed short-lived alliances, but in favour of getting access to food they had to divide again.  
And Benedikt did indeed adept to this restless life, although he still detested the huge amounts of blood they witnessed. But he and Mats grew closer still, until they were sent on espionages together, because they were the best team in the group and their skills complimented each other to perfection. These were also the only occasions when they were able to touch and hold one another.

It was at the end of one of these missions when they returned to find their group shattered, corpses lying everywhere on the naked soil, their friends and comrades dead. Mats screamed when he found Marco dead, and Benedikt had to hold and comfort him for long hours, or so it seemed.

Mats sobbed so strongly that Benedikt could barely hold him upright, had to fight against the desperate rage which consumed Mats and made him fight the loving arms. Still Mats roared in desperate cries, so that Benedikt murmured endlessly: “Shh, calm down, Mats. He is in a better world now, he’s with God. His pain is gone, and your’s will fade, too. He will be forgiven. Don’t fear… Shh, I love you. I really do.”

Mats spoke to him outraged: “What are you saying; he’s in a better world now? And what about us? Where will we go once we die? Will we be forgiven? Don’t lie to me, Benedikt, I know you think we’re forever cursed and condemned. You would send anybody to heaven, anybody but yourself. Now tell me the truth.”

Benedikt could only look to the ground upon hearing this. Mats was right, he didn’t deem himself worthy to reach heavenly peace at all. He was a sinner. But he had Mats now, although he didn’t understand his lover’s indifference regarding this matter. “And you, you don’t care, Mats? Are you completely above God’s will? You committed adultery repeatedly, with another man on top of that, without showing remorse. And all this time I have not seen you pray once.”

“I cannot pray anymore. You’re the angel to pray for our poor souls”, Mats answered weakly.

“I fear I’m no angel and never have been. We may burn in hell for this.”

“Then we’ll be together. I love you, too”, Mats’ spoke softly, barely audible.

 

After one hour of intensely searching, they found the severely wounded Duke Schweinsteiger together with the unconscious Marcel in the forest nearby. All the horses were fled or dead, most of their weapons broken, no more food available. But at least, there were four of them left. “Let’s head home”, Mats spoke decisively, a strong and proud man once again. Everyone else nodded gladly, and Benedikt looked forward to his next adventure with the warrior Mats Hummels.


	3. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last part of my “Benni is a monk”-story. Although it may seem so, it’s not my intention to convert you to something; this is just Benedikt’s journey.

‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ Benedikt couldn’t help but think of the famous psalm’s words while having just completed his lauds, the ceremonial morning prayer which he on every day prayed and sang in the small chapel on Duke Schweinsteiger’s castle, completely alone most of the time. He didn’t mind being alone, God was with him after all, and he was used to rising early. But the silent hour right before dawn, which aimed to praise Jesus who was symbolised by the rising sun, so often lead him to contemplate on the adventurous course his life had taken on in the last couple of months.   
Now everything seemed to slow down again, and he was grateful for that. Grateful to Mats of course, who was a dear friend and secret lover to him, to the Duke who had welcomed him warmly after he had saved his life by treating his grave wounds, grateful also to the old priest who had grudgingly accepted him as his aid and soon-to-be successor. But most of all, he felt grateful to God, whom he, above all, couldn’t deny his pure soul. 

Despite all initial fears and doubts upon leaving the monastery, he had found a new home here, with the help of them all. And he suspected also that Mats was his angel, sent to him by Heaven, to lead him to another place where he was needed more and could do more good than at his former position. The desperate widows who had lost their husbands during war, the orphaned children living in the villages around the castle, the sick, poor and old people – who was to help them, if not he, Benedikt, was there to offer them a helping hand, prayer, a few gentle words and some left-over bread and other nourishments from the Duke’s table?

On the first days after arriving here, he had intensely sought solitude and prayer, here in this gothic chapel, night after night, deeply in pain and desperately praying for an answer, for a release of his guilt and shame. He had left his former housing like a thief in the night without even saying good-bye, had broken his vow of chastity to live in sin with Mats, had done and seen unspeakable things in the battles himself, after all. This was not to be taken lightly, and being the deeply serious person he was, he couldn’t help but fight for his faith and seek to conquer the devils within himself with all his might. So he had laid his soul open and had confessed all of his many sins to the Almighty while kneeing on the cold stone floor of this small church. On some of the worst nights, when his memories haunted him without end, he had even secretly fled into the forests nearby, to scream and cry there, undisturbed by others.   
He knew, Mats had wondered what was going on with him and why he was so tired throughout the day, but he hadn’t told him. This was a personal thing between him, his guilty conscience and God. And although he was willing and maybe also able to endure this kind of self-loathing for a whole lifetime, his loyalty to his former beliefs demanded so much more, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t deny himself and his Heavenly Father any longer. 

He had prayed to and beseeched God, for weeks it seemed, in hope and trust, in despair and in inner outrage, in turmoil and in tears. He had even ignored Mats for a couple of times, who tried to chat with him on a daily basis, often invited him to dinner or sought his company for more intimate ambitions. 

Faith is a strange thing. In daily life so often it is superfluous, you don’t think of it while preparing dinner or doing work or going to bed. But it always comes back to you whenever you don’t see it coming. A friend or beloved family member dies and then suddenly you think: “Oh, why did this happen? Why must it be?” Then you’re brought back to the inevitability of life that all of us have to die at some point, and it may sometimes be rather sooner than later. Then further questions arise, what will happen to us upon this very event, and suddenly, this is an overly urgent matter which crushes you with massive force. Or you find yourself at a crossroad in life and not sure which road to take, then you’re brought back to asking yourself what your life should actually be about. What is your aim and purpose on this kindly planet Earth?

So all things are coming back to us eventually.

 

Benedikt knew this, of course. He had searched God all of his life, had felt guided by and close to Him in his childhood years, so he couldn’t do without for a longer period of time. Sensing this tender grace in silent minutes had been the best moments of his life so far. As he had no real family any more and belonged to no one, he had needed to belong somewhere at least, and where else should he turn to if not to the one who had created him with loving intent. This sincere, deep-felt longing, the cornerstone of his faith, was like an innate part of him, just as his sins and unwanted desire for men, for Mats especially now, were also part of him. It was a devotion of the heart which Mats, for example, didn’t fully understand, and he also suspected the old priest to have forgotten about this kind of feelings a long time ago.

It is of no matter. The heart must seek his answers, and Benedikt had to stay true to his own heart at least. He had always been told to fear God and the punishment of sins, but Jesus had also spoken of trust, even of love, and had cured and looked after the ill and poor, the thieves and outcast, even the sinners and adulterers. What of this should be true in his case? Maybe both. So he continuously prayed for a sign that he was to be forgiven as well.

 

It was on the morning after one of these long, strenuous nights that Mats’ son came running towards him, all the time joyously laughing, stumbling to him with his short, 3-year-old legs, while his mother stood behind him in the middle of the castle’s main square, waiting patiently and watching her child with loving eyes.  
Benedikt liked Cathy well enough despite being a little shy and reserved around her; she was Mats’ wife, after all. But he had loved Jonas, their young son, from the very instant he met him for the first time. Jonas looked so much like his handsome father, having all this wild curly hair and dark brown eyes, while bearing so much of a child’s pure joy and innocence that it always made him glad when he saw him. And Jonas seemed to like him back, as he so often would ask him about his former life in the monastery with enticing naivety, pat at his short beard or his hair while sitting on his lap, and ask for all kind of adventurous stories that Benedikt could come up with. 

That’s why Benedikt now lowered himself closer to the ground to then gather the small child in his arms when Jonas reached him, to lift him up and swirl him around in the air. Jonas was laughing, obviously happy, and Benedikt was too.

When he put him down again with Benedikt carefully withdrawing, the child still reached for him. “Your hair is growing again” Jonas said absent mindedly, pulling on the former monk’s thin strands of hair with curious fingers. And indeed this was the case as his former tonsure was hardly visible any more so that he had to find a barber very soon. 

“You’re a smart child to observe that” Benedikt replied kindly.

“Papa also says so, so I am double smart.” Jonas stilled for a moment and apparently came to a conclusion, as he carried on speaking after that. “I have something for you.” Then he reached inside his woollen jacket, searched for a moment and then took something out of it. It was white and crumpled, with a short green stem on its bottom. Benedikt took a closer look; it was a lily. A white lily.

“Where have you got this from? I’m pretty sure there are no lilies in your parents’ garden” Benedikt wanted to know, fearing the child had stolen the flower from a richer persons property.

“The Duke’s gardener gave it to me when I was playing nearby.”

“But why should I have it?” Benedikt wondered.

“Because I wanted to, it suits you. It’s a present for you. Sorry I did not care better for it.”

“Thank you”, Benedikt took the crumbled flower from the boy’s hands with hesitant fingers, staring at it while Jonas first stroked the flower, then his wrist in a gesture of childlike affection before smiling brightly and running back to his mother afterwards. But at the moment, the monk had no eyes left for the little boy, as he had been given something overly precious: a white lily, a symbol of pureness and innocence. 

It suited him, the fallen monk? Could it really be? Was this the sign of forgiveness he had asked for? He was not sure, although his heart was beating so hard in his chest from sheer excitement. But he still had to be completely sure.

 

He was sure when he heard the blacksmith’s wife sing the ancient verses of the ‘Peace Prayer’ by St. Francis of Assisi on the following day while doing her laundry. The text spoke the exact words his heart had longed to hear for such a long time: “…It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, in giving of ourselves that we receive. And in dying that we’re born to eternal life.” 

When Mats paid him a late visit in his chamber upon this evening and kissed him tenderly, Benedikt kissed the other man back without feeling only the slightest sign of remorse. He secretly kept the dried and soon almost unrecognisable lily until the very day he died.


	4. Ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is religious too, I’m still in the mood for that, but it's also sort of a counterpart to the previous story. The Latin motto means “From shadows and images into truth”, it’s the memorial on their joint grave. The chapter was written in memory of Cardinal John Henry Newman, who lived in England during the 19th century, and his friend Father Ambrose St. John. The emphasized words are from the formers own writing, I changed them slightly where I put them in brackets. Unfortunately, I cannot even come close to the beauty of the original sentences. I recommend to google them, it’s a beautiful story.

Mats heard a gentle knocking from the other side of the door and rose immediately from his desk to let the open book rest and wait there for him while he greeted his long-time friend. Obviously, no, hopefully, it had to be Benedikt to pay him a short late-night visit after his long and strenuous journey to Rome. Having missed him for as long as almost twenty days, he now felt overly ready to finally fall back into the daily routines such as eating side by side in the dining room, discussing semantics of both their seminars and standing strong together against his opponents, who from time to time aimed evil-veiled words at him, and supporting each other with the issues of daily life.

Only seconds later he held the treasured friend in his arms again, who smiled at him with kind eyes, still in his official attire, but overjoyed to be home. Good to have him back!

“Benedikt, so long a time I have spared your precious image! Now finally you have found your way back to us. How have you been in the meantime?” he asked after putting a small distance between them, still holding on to Benedikt’s shoulders.

The blond man gazed at him amiably. “I’m well enough, though my return was being delayed. But I have good news, as my request for an interview was approved and I was able to speak with various cardinals and persons in power concerning the issue. There are still discussions, but the case is being forged. I guess you will have received my letter until now.”

“I thank thee, my dear friend, for taking up the immense efforts of this journey solely for the purpose of helping me against my critics. Your kind letter has arrived two days ago; we will find time to discuss the matter at length. Now rest yourself and find peace, before I will take up the opportunity to keep you busy once again.”

Benedikt humbly lowered his gaze, showing all of his freckles and a slight shimmer of redness upon his cheeks to Mats, who could have found no view to be more enticing than this one. “It is of no matter, where thou go, I shall go as well” he replied calmly, in part citing the well-known ancient biblical words to him. Mats resisted the impulse to pull the other man close again, just pressed his shoulders affectionately.

Benedikt meanwhile searched for his hand and clasped it tightly, so tightly indeed that Mats feared he would still feel the too strong impact later on. He did not care at all, he knew und understood Benedikt’s passionate and intense demeanour all too well. It arose from the deep union they had formed before entering priesthood together, some twenty-one years ago in Rome, when taking their vows of celibacy together. Right on from the start, Benedikt had _**been so devoted to [him], had loved [him] with an intensity of love, which was unaccountable, was always so working for and relieving [him] of all trouble, that being young and Saxon-looking, the Romans called him [his] Angel Guardian. As far as this world was concerned, [Mats] was his first and last.**_ And Mats felt relieved and grateful upon knowing this, grateful to call this man, _**whom God gave [him], when he took every one else away**_ , his companion for such a long time. He was his _**earthly light**_ indeed.

Since then, they had come so far. Mats had made it to Cardinal in the English town of Birmingham, all the while still living in the Oratory with their fellow brothers and Father Benedikt, who worked as a scholar and linguist mainly. Yet they each clung to their Holy vows, leading a chaste life while on the other hand finding a home, security and contentedness, the greatest depth of tenderness and affection in each other. It was for the better and also the great sacrifice they were willing to endure, to grant them happiness and an afterlife in heaven, once again side by side, in the end. Transforming the forbidden, never openly mentioned, only hinted at urges into a lifelong bond to solely serve God’s purposes had not been easy, had been an ongoing trial for most of their earlier years, but they had succeeded in the end. To gradually approach Christian perfection by prayer and sacramental grace was the ultimate goal after all; this was the life of self-mastery they both had decided on, and nothing should come in between. And Benedikt, the forever trusting and faithful man, had been the master at that, giving his all to Mats and his efforts, without asking something for himself.

Mats smiled at Benedikt kindly, holding the intense eye contact that revealed their deep love for the other for long seconds. Then the 14 years younger man departed in saying Good Night, pressing Mats’ hand once again. 

Mats paid a short visit to his private chapel after that, right on the other side of the room divider, where he fell down on his knees to pray. Afterwards he also went to bed, still thinking of the beloved friend, with _**whom [he] ha[d] lived so long, with whom [he] hoped to die**_. Unbelievable, to finally have found peace and purpose after so many storms in life.

 

\+ + + 

 

Benedikt was taken from him eleven years after that, dying from a stroke after having done too much overwork in translating a book for him, which Mats had requested. He had not known and had missed to see the signs. Now it was too late, but the remorse consumed him, leading for him to break down continually. _**A day [did] not pass without [him] having violent bursts of crying. [He] ha[d] ever thought no bereavement was equal to that of a husband’s or a wife’s, but [he] fe[lt] it difficult to believe that any can be greater, or any one’s sorrow greater, than [his].**_

 

Many years later upon writing his testament, he wrote:

_**“I wish, with all my heart, to be buried in Father [Benedikt’s] grave – and give this as my last, my imperative will. This I confirm and insist on, and command.”** _


	5. Make-up artist

Benedikt sighed, quietly regretting the considerable amount of work he was still going to have tonight. While the first series of models had already come into the studio so that he could care for their hair and make-up, the show had to go on with the second and third row of beautiful girls and good-looking guys. There was hardly any break in between to have a look at the show himself or to go to the toilet at least. Sadly, time was short more often than not and his colleges were also under duress, so he was stuck to applying more spray to the wildest hair cuts, trimming eye brows, putting rouge on people’s faces and sometimes also assisting them with getting something to eat and drink. Contrary to popular belief, these types of events tended to be exhausting and most of the models indeed cared for their bodily well-being, so they couldn’t go all hungry. 

But still he loved his job, because he met extraordinary people in an interesting surrounding, without having to do normal office work which probably would have bored him to death. He put some more foundation onto the blond girl’s face before him, after this he was finally done with her. Gracefully, she rose with saying thanks, showing her nearly naked back and a short, very short skirt to him, which he ignored. Gosh, he didn’t care for the girls, but too often they seemed way too young for the job they had chosen for a living.

The next one was a tall and handsome guy, all broad shoulders and dark eyes, with nice curly hair on top of that. Yes, this one was much more to his liking. Not that it belonged to his job to check out the models, being surrounded by beautiful people was nothing out of the norm for him, but every now and then someone caught his eye enough to be of further interest.

“Hi”, the dark-haired guy said, sitting easily in the chair in front of him and facing the mirror. 

“Hey”, Benedikt replied as well, smiling calmly. This man was relaxed and felt secure enough to greet him in a friendly manner, which he approved of. This was not always the case as some men were very shy, being to a model show for the very first time, didn’t care much for social contacts or they feared being ogled at by a male make-up artist. Yes, men in his profession tended to be gay, and he himself definitely was. No, that didn’t mean he would impose himself on somebody who was not interested. He was single, but not that desperate.

“Sorry to rush you, but I’m due in five minutes”, the handsome guy said upon meeting his eyes in the mirror. Oh, and he had beautiful eyes too, warm and rich in colour. Benedikt would have liked to drown in the intensity they gave off, but he simply had no time for any of that. 

“Okay, shouldn’t be a problem”, Benedikt answered, taking a closer look at his face from the side, while the other man closed his eyes trustingly. His features were even and really stunning, the skin clear and without visible marks, so this was not going to take long. Unfortunately so, in this case. He wore dark ripped jeans, black boots and a white tank top which showed his strong arms and shoulders. 

Benedikt took a small brush and put some light powder onto the guy’s cheeks and forehead. He touched his hair as well, tried to fix it somehow, but as it seemingly should stay wild and untamed, there was not much to be done with it. But it was kind of fascinating, nevertheless. “That’s it already, if you don’t need anything else” he exclaimed after that.

“Thank you”, the male model said, rising from the chair and slowly turning to him. Surprisingly enough, the man eyed him up and down, then met his gaze again while his lips curved up into a curious little smile. “I would welcome some coffee later on, but the machine seems to be empty. You know where I can find some?”

“Yes, I can show you if I have time, don’t worry about that. And good luck with the show!” Benedikt was not yet sure how to interpret the guy’s question, but he knew this had to wait now, as a few girls were already waiting at the door to be cared for.

“Okay, I’ll find you then. Sorry for keeping you busy. See you later on”, the man smiled openly, then turned to exit the room. 

Benedikt’s gaze followed him shortly, until Lisa, his college who worked beside him, interrupted his idle thoughts by saying amusedly: “Seems like you have chances, Benniii… This one was hot! And you liked him too, didn’t you?”

“Oh my, Lisa, please…” Benedikt replied, shaking his head fondly while the next girl seated herself in front of him, listening to their conversation with a speculative glance towards him. This was the problem with getting to know guys at work: everybody else also seemed to notice and the women especially so. Surely they also would have liked to see them kissing or doing even more intimate things once it was clear that they couldn’t have the men in question for themselves. But he was not one to put on a show; he liked his private matters staying private.

 

\+ + +

 

“Hi again! I’ve been looking for you.”

Benedikt turned his head upon hearing the man’s deep voice for the second time this evening. There he was, still tall and gorgeous, carrying two cups of steaming hot coffee with him. When he handed one to Benedikt, their fingertips met briefly. 

He smiled at that. “Thank you. Sorry for forgetting about the coffee, I needed some fresh air first.”

They were standing in the open now, close to the backstage entrance of the mess hall where the show was going on. It was dark already, some traffic lights and distant noises of cars surrounding them, thus illustrating the cold autumn setting in the big city of Dortmund in North-Rhine Westphalia. 

“I finally found some coffee myself, so don’t worry. You work here regularly?”

Benedikt already wanted to answer, when the man spoke up again while chuckling softly to himself: “Oh, I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mats, Mats Hummels.” With that, he extended his big hand, and Benedikt shook it gladly, as it was firm and warm.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Benedikt, but feel free to call me Benni instead. And no, my company is seated in Düsseldorf actually, so I’m just here for today’s show. But you’re living in Dortmund?” Benedikt welcomed the opportunity to finally take a look at the man in front of him for more than a couple of seconds only: now he was wearing a black leather jacket around his shoulders which was open in the front, still showing his impressive pectorals. His stance was open and relaxed, with one hand clinging to the coffee cup and the other resting leisurely on his hip.

“Yes, I am. And this is just a part-time job for me; I’m working for a sports company mainly. Wouldn’t want to travel around the world just to attend fashion shows or to have some photos taken of me.”

Hearing this surprised Benedikt, he would have imagined Mats Hummels to be a famous top model, flying to London and New York and Paris all of the time. “But why not? Surely it would be an exciting life style, and honestly I can’t imagine there’s no company that wouldn’t want you for a full time job.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Mats smiled brightly, putting his now empty coffee cup to the side to take a small step closer to Benedikt. Their eyes met, and Benedikt could clearly see the honest interest in those dark ones. “Nah, it would be too boring, sports are simply more interesting. At my company I’m in contact with big sport clubs like Borussia Dortmund, consulting them in questions of their equipment and testing it beforehand. I even get to meet the players from time to time.”

“Oh”, Benedikt answered, unsure of what to say. So this beautiful man regularly met football players, and how could he compete with them? He was just a lonesome make-up artist, after all. “So you meet a lot of people actually. How are they like? The players, I mean?”

Maybe Mats had sensed and correctly interpreted his insecurity upon hearing the former, because he declared: “Nice. Friendly and open most of the time. But, you know, they all have girlfriends, every one of them. And I’m still single.”

Benedikt halted at that. Could it be true, this man hitting on him? He smirked slowly and gazed at Mats, more openly this time. The holes in his jeans showed little parts of slightly tanned skin, and Benedikt longed to touch them. “Glad to hear that. I’m also single, unfortunately.”

Mats grinned broadly, coming ever nearer until they stood so very close. “So you’re free for tonight?”

Benedikt couldn’t help but laugh. “It is already ‘tonight’ now, I fear, and I still have to work a couple of hours. But yeah, after that I’m free. Where shall we go to then?”

“Maybe we’ll find a bar that’s still open. If it’s too late for you we can also meet another day. Are you here by train or by car, actually? I could take you somewhere if you have to get to the train station.”

“What, I don’t get a prompt invitation to your apartment?” Benedikt mentioned jokingly, unashamedly hinting at the possibility of getting to know each other more personally very soon. He wasn’t too sure himself; he didn’t know this guy at all. But Mats looked so good and he hadn’t got laid in ages, plus he wanted to touch this hair and these muscles and kiss the other man senseless. Tomorrow, on Sunday, he had a day off, so he felt no need to head home as fast as possible.

Mats grinned again, easily adding to the playful banter while bringing his fingers to the hem of Benedikt’s shirt at last, which sent thrills down the latter’s spine. “I see. Of course you’re invited, if you want to. And rest assured, I’m not a serial killer. Would never do any harm to such an amiable and good-looking man as you.”

“Oh, you’re not too bad yourself.” With that, they got even closer to each other until they kissed, softly and tenderly at first, with Mats lowering his head a couple of centimetres to reach the slightly smaller man’s face. After some seconds of carefully exploring the other’s mouth, Benedikt felt more courageous, cupped Mats’ jaw with one hand and let his tongue slide behind the warm lips which still tasted of coffee. It was pure enjoyment, the possibility of exploring more of Mats’ enchanting skin tonight sending a rush of excitement trough his body.

“Benni, are you here? We need you; there’s this girl freaking out about her dress and the managers are nowhere to be seen.” With that, Lisa appeared by their side, abruptly standing still. “Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” But then, she grinned so joyously that it again annoyed Benedikt.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Can’t have a minute for myself obviously…”

Lisa smirked. “But you are not here by yourself, if the hands on your hips are anything to judge by.”

“Don’t be such a smartass. You can go already; I’ll be with you in no time.” And to Mats he said, slowly freeing himself from the other man’s grip: “Sorry Mats, I’m needed unfortunately. I will have to work until around eleven. You’re okay with waiting?”

“Sure”, Mats replied, letting his lips graze over Benedikt’s cheek softly. “I’ll be waiting in the changing room. And thinking of you.”

Benedikt chuckled and took hold of Mats’ hand lightly while turning towards the empty hallway. “So I’ll hurry up, you beautiful charmer.”

They went to the men’s changing room together, into which Mats disappeared, but not before smiling meaningfully at Benedikt, losing his jacket and starting to pull his tank top over his head, to finally change back into his own clothes. Benedikt caught glimpses of washboard abs and rosy nibbles; then the door was closed right before his nose. A considerable amount of blood rushed down his body and he felt his cock twitch lightly. This Mats guy was such a tease! Deeply sighing, he went back to work and hoped to be spared by more of Lisa’s cheeky comments at least.

 

\+ + +

 

Much later, when Benedikt knocked at the changing room’s door to enter it, Mats was the last model waiting there. He was keeping himself busy with his smart phone and put it away as soon as he saw the slightly smaller man standing in the entrance. “Fine, you’re done finally. Let’s head home then, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s go! Sorry I couldn’t make it sooner; this show was a mess. And I completely missed your appearance on stage…”

Mats chuckled softly. “Oh, you didn’t miss anything. Not much more than me lingering around in front of a few people who overestimate their importance, wearing too expensive clothes that are supposed to be cool somehow.”  
Benedikt was again astonished by the relaxed, if not to say indifferent attitude of the man walking beside him. “You don’t care for any of this?”

“Not too much, no. It’s easy earned money, that’s most of it for me.” In the meantime, they had left the building, heading for the park deck where Mats’ car was stationed. As Benedikt indeed had travelled here by public transport, he welcomed the opportunity to get an easy ride home. Which meant Mats’ home, in this case. Upon entering said car, Mats spoke: “But this doesn’t mean I can’t make friends with the idea of meeting someone nice on one of the shows.” He cast an affectionate glance in Benedikt’s direction, who instantly felt his cheeks warming up. 

 

The ride passed in silence mainly. Benedikt felt slightly nervous, anticipating what was about to come in the following hours. Mats grinned occasionally, rubbed his knee at some point while waiting for the red lights to change, but let him be besides that.

Once they were through Mats’ door, Benedikt was embraced by strong arms and kissed hungrily. Obviously Mats possessed not only a very attractive appearance, but also a quite gripping, enthusiastic and care-free personality. He chose to welcome it, to welcome the moment in all its glorious manifestations, to which the raging hard-ons in both their pants definitely counted. He lost himself in the urgent kisses Mats bestowed upon him, in the way his ass was carefully groped. Soon, garments were lost und shoes tossed off as they tumbled towards the unlit bedroom. 

Then Mats stood bare before him, the lights now on, erect and breath-taking, but unmoving for once. His former hungry gaze grew tender and devotional as it slowly swept over Benedikts’ uncovered body. “You’re beautiful. I hope you know that? Your skin is so creamy, like it’s made of moonlight.”

Benedikt dipped his head while smiling. “Mats, you flatter. And you might destroy the mood if you continue to embarrass me.” To avoid just that, he stepped forward and put his arms around Mats again, until their groins were pressed together. The contact sent flames of desire through his body, and only seconds later they found themselves in midst the soft pillows of Mats’ bed, rutting and rubbing against each other, fondling and exploring until their groans and sighs led to ecstatic bliss. Benedikt smiled happily when he felt Mats’ release against his thigh, gave into the temptation, rubbed himself against his partner’s hips once more and then felt his penis twitch also. Not caring about the mess they made, he still cuddled closer to the other man, who readily embraced him. 

Mats kissed his shoulder softly. “We should do that more often, don’t you think? I’ll call you my moon.”

Benedikt could only agree to that suggestion. As it turned out, they did it for days and weeks and months without end; then Benedikt was sure he had found his sun. Their light was undimmed by shades of night and still shines for those with eyes to see.


End file.
